Grab the Regressor by the Collar and Debut!

Chapter 262. This Is the Daily Life Arc. Probably. (5)

Overnight, all sorts of articles appeared with titles like “Cinderella of the Variety World” and “A Rising Star in the Boy Band Scene.” However, nothing had really changed in my daily life.

I continued to go about my regular schedule, attending music shows, preparing for year-end stages, practicing, and preparing content.

In the meantime, the song *This Isn’t a Christmas Carol* steadily climbed the charts, tracing a significant upward trajectory.

“Oh, 37th place.”

Even as I sprawled across the couch in Lee Doha’s studio, the red triangle on the music chart remained unwavering.

We had already seen the peak with *Touch High*, so it wasn’t as if we had a surge of new listeners. It seemed more like the song was sticking around in the charts, getting played repeatedly by people, pushing it up the rankings.

‘Once the college entrance exams are over, the year-end atmosphere will really kick in. If we play our cards right, we could capitalize on the year-end buzz…’

I was contemplating shooting a simple performance video for *This Isn’t a Christmas Carol* around Christmas.

While happily mulling this over and replying to overdue messages, I received an unfamiliar message from an unknown sender.

<. ‖ Hajin, what are you up to? ㅋㅋㅋ>

Who is this?

Since I tend to keep the same phone number for a long time, it wasn’t unusual for someone’s contact to change while they still had mine.

Moreover, since appearing on *Touch High*, even people I didn’t usually talk to had been sending me messages. Without thinking much, I replied.

<ㄴㄱ?>

The response came back quickly.

<. ‖ I’m your girlfriend ㅋㅋㅋ>

Ah, it’s a sasaeng.

The moment I received the reply, I recognized the situation and promptly hit the block button before exiting the chat. No matter how charming and sociable I might be, there’s no one in my life who would suddenly claim to be my girlfriend without introducing themselves first, especially without adding me as a friend.

Should I be thankful that I realized it late but still in time?

As I was pondering this seriously, Lee Doha, who had been working, swiveled his chair around and called out to me.

“Something up?”

“Oh. I think my number got leaked.”

“Your number?”

“Yeah. I got a text from a sasaeng.”

I waved my phone, and Lee Doha’s face stiffened slightly as he furrowed his brows.

Because he had such a stern look, even a slight frown made him seem quite intimidating and intense. Of course, whatever thoughts were in that head of his were likely far softer than his expression suggested.

I casually tossed my phone onto the edge of the couch and waved my hand dismissively.

“It’s fine. I’ve been thinking of changing my number anyway, with everyone suddenly messaging me.”

At my nonchalant attitude, Lee Doha simply looked at me for a moment before nodding.

I opened a snack box that was in the studio, naturally changing the subject.

“So, why did you ask me to come here today? It’s not just because you were bored, right?”

“Oh. I finished arranging a track for the year-end stage, and I wanted you to listen to it.”

“What version is it?”

“For the Golden Disc Awards.”

“That orchestra one? Okay.”

Nodding, I grabbed the huge teddy bear on the couch and hugged it tightly as the grand orchestral version played through the impressive speakers in the studio.

I closed my eyes, imagining the choreography that Lee Yugeon and Seo Taehyun had painstakingly devised with our performance director. I liked how the arrangement felt much more poignant and intense than the original version.

“It’s good. You coordinated the timing of the drops with Do-ssem, right?”

“Yeah. I followed the guide he gave me. Personally, I feel like it drags a bit… What do you think, Hajin?”

“I get what you mean, but that’s something we’ll have to address with the vocals. Siwoo-hyung will handle it. For me, though, I was thinking about Taehyun’s part in the first verse. What if we strip out all the instruments and just lay down some pad sounds, letting Seo Taehyun’s voice carry the weight?”

“I thought of that too, so I made a version like that. Wanna hear it?”

We continued to discuss the arrangement in depth.

Having shared a room with Lee Doha, I realized that our musical tastes were surprisingly similar.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that Lee Doha trusted my ears and instincts more than I had expected.

As someone who had once tried to involve himself deeply in directing, I was grateful that someone as talented as him took my opinions seriously.

“Then… how about we polish it up a bit and let the rest of the members listen? They probably have some ideas of their own too.”

“Sure. I’m planning to wrap it up by tomorrow or the day after.”

After about thirty minutes of discussion, during which we finished giving feedback on the direction of the arrangement, I playfully squeezed the face of the teddy bear I had been hugging and jokingly asked Lee Doha,

“What’s the deal with this dopey-looking teddy bear? Does it keep you company when you’re alone in the studio?”

“A fan gave it to me.”

“I mean, it’s just so cute, you know? Look at that fluffy fur. I bet if you hug it when you’re stuck on a project, inspiration will come back in no time. Wow~ Out of everything in here, this is the cutest, prettiest, most adorable thing….”

Caught off guard by my unexpected teasing, I carefully placed the teddy bear next to the couch and patted down the spots I had wrinkled.

This was definitely a time for a swift change of topic.

“Oh, Doha. Also, you know what? For our year-end performance, we’re doing a senior idol cover song on QBS, and it’s probably going to be Utopia’s.”

“The seniors?”

“Yeah. What was the song again? Ah, it was… the one where Taeil-hyung had blonde hair in a wolf cut back in the day…”

“*Coup d’État*? It’s the title track from Utopia’s second full album. It was their first song to win on QBS, so it’s probably that one.”

“…You’re just as intense as I am.”

That devoted Aidea freak…

I glanced at the corner of the studio where Lee Doha’s Utopia merch collection was displayed and chuckled. No matter how I looked at it, the most successful fanboy around me was definitely this guy.

“Anyway, unless something changes, that’s probably the song we’ll be doing. But I think it might be risky to perform it exactly like the original, like we did at the last concert.”

“Yeah, this time the performance has a completely different purpose.”

“But I’m not sure how to go about reworking that song. Those guys really nailed it.”

“Hmm… I’ll think about it too. There’s no rush, right?”

“Nope. It seems like the network is still discussing things with everyone. Once it’s confirmed, we’ll talk again with the rest of the guys.”

After we finished discussing the important matters, our conversation shifted to lighthearted topics.

We toasted to the success of *This Isn’t a Christmas Carol*, shared behind-the-scenes stories from *Touch High*, and more. I ended up lying comfortably on the couch, laughing out loud.

Eventually, the conversation naturally quieted down.

Lee Doha took a sip of the iced Americano I had brought and looked at me intently.

Then, as he had done before, he casually tossed out a question.

“Hajin.”

“What?”

“You know how to compose, right?”

“…….”

At Lee Doha’s question, what came to mind was an old, worn-out sheet of music.

Back when I was eager to become a singer, after relearning practical piano, I had fiddled with the keys and created my first song.

“…Who can’t make a song? Even a four-year-old kid can hum a melody.”

“But have you ever thought about composing properly?”

“Is this one of those questions where you’ve already made up your mind? Why do you ask questions and then just say what you want?”

“I’ve thought about it for a while. I can help with the production. I’d like to see you write a song, properly.”

Lee Doha was sincere.

Of course he was. That guy never had a moment when he wasn’t sincere.

Still lying on the couch, I stared at the pitch-black ceiling of the studio. The words, large and small, rolled around in my closed mouth.

A myriad of words mapped out all the timelines of my life.

“…I don’t know.”

“…….”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ve never really studied it professionally.”

“…….”

“But I’ll think about it. Thanks.”

The faint smile I managed to show held genuine gratitude.

It would be a lie to say I didn’t have a desire to one day create the songs I wanted to sing.

But still, not yet.

Even now, I….

“…Okay. Whenever you want to start, just let me know.”

“Yeah. Thanks, really.”

This hesitation and fear that I still couldn’t resolve felt nothing but shameful now.

* * *

Where did this endless distrust begin?

If I trace it back, it’s from a long time ago.

—Hajin, I feel like you could do better, but you’re just missing that last bit.

How should I put it? It was like chains that had bound me for a very long time.

—Kang Hajin. To the back row, last spot.

It happened when I unexpectedly got into a fairly large city children’s choir.

Before that, I had always played the lead role or, even if not the lead, had taken on roles where I could shine in small theater productions. So, it was quite a shock when I was assigned as a choir member in the back row, far from being a soloist.

—Again. That’s not it.

I was a pretty slow learner.

The moment I was called out from among the hundred or so choir members to relearn diaphragmatic breathing still remained vividly in my memory.

To someone who had never been in the position of a “poor performer,” that was a deeply humiliating experience, and eventually, I quit the choir.

However, what left a scar in my heart wasn’t the fact that I had quit the choir, but that nothing had changed for the choir even after I left.

In fact, the choir began to truly flourish after I left, and over time, more and more choir members didn’t even know I had once been a part of it.

—This time, Seokhee and Jaehyung will be participating in the competition, so keep that in mind~

—Oh~ Han Seokhee, Yoon Jaehyung~

—But it makes sense. Those two are really good singers.

Opportunities always passed me by.

I tried my best to make myself known and was confident, but for some reason, I was often not even mentioned.

The same thing happened repeatedly at KD Entertainment, my first company.

My performance wasn’t bad, but there was always someone better in that position.

Whether it was academics, running, personality, singing, dancing, or even trivial things like drawing or gaming.

Being “well-rounded” was ultimately no different from being “mediocre in everything.”

The comfort I took in thinking that I was just waiting for someone, a situation, or the world to recognize my potential gradually turned into excuses and rationalizations.

Kang Hajin, who feared confirming his own potential, was a person shaped by such years.

The deep-seated craving for recognition, the constant self-doubt, the fear that I might be nothing after all—those feelings had grown over a long period.

Eating away at a corner of my heart.

Looking back now, I realize that I was much younger and more inexperienced back then, unaware of my own strengths and weaknesses.

Just as I was inexperienced when I was ostracized at KD Entertainment, I knew in my head that just because I wasn’t recognized back then didn’t mean I shouldn’t be recognized now.

I knew well that everyone has a time, place, and moment in life when their talents and abilities bloom, and no one knows when that moment will come in their life.

But still….

‘How far can I go?’

Is the result I’ve achieved now due to luck or skill?

If it’s skill, how long will this success last?

On a bigger stage, in a bigger world, how much can I really do?

My bad habit of being unable to fully enjoy my success remained hard to break.

And perhaps.

<‘Rene Rookie’ Lanion Surpasses 400,000 Pre-orders for Debut Album…A New Major Rookie Is Born>

It seemed that once again, fate was intent on asking me the same question.

Hoping that this time, I, who had spent my life running away from that question, would find the answer.